


The Bottom Line

by rosereddawn



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosereddawn/pseuds/rosereddawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heat still lingers under her skin and something inside Max is moaning low with the pressure, a fire that won’t go to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bottom Line

“Girl, no. I yield.” From somewhere under the cushions, Cindy’s hand pokes out to wave some lazy patterns in the air. “See my white flag?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Max protests because she’s not. Just rubbing her legs along the scratchy sheets. It feels really good on the soles of her feet, and the polyester blanket sets off little sparks along her skin, and her thighs alternately push into the back of Cindy’s which are so incredibly soft and warm.

“Boo, they must have put man in your mix because you’re dry-humping me here.”

Max shakes her head a little, confident. The curls of Cindy’s hair tickle her cheeks. “‘M not. Is just post-orgasmic chilling.”

All right, her pelvis might occasionally be rubbing against Cindy’s ass, yes, but that’s only because they fit so well. Perfect curves sliding against each other, heat still lingering under their skin and something inside Max is moaning low with the pressure, a fire that won’t go to sleep.

None of that, however, means they’re doing anything more than cuddling here. Especially not in comparison to what they were doing until a couple of minutes ago when Cindy caved. Max can still taste her in the corners of her mouth, this heavy, dazing taste of sex her body can’t stop craving.

So it really isn’t fair when Cindy decides to roll over and out of Max’s grip. Her hand is all empty without the weight of her breast, her fingers sad that they can’t roll that hard, pebbled nipple anymore.

“Don’t go,” she says, sounding whiny even to her own ears, and just a little out of breath.

Cindy snorts, amused. “Only place I’m going is to sleep.” She’s rummaging about in the cramped space between the mattress and the wall where in the last few weeks, books and notes and clothes have formed their own little fort. It’s too busy a time to keep every sleeping place tidy. Although Max would rather put her head down in some cozier home anyway, Cindy insisted on putting her up here, in a quiet corner of Terminal City - for the long nights and because leaving isn’t always safe, there’s thugs outside the walls, and I know you’re big and strong, my transgenic girlfriend, but they got the numbers, and guns and knives too.

Cindy rolls back around and drops a vibrator she must have brought along on top of the sheets. “There. You know I’m always glad to help a sister out, and right now? I’m helping you out with my last two batteries.” With that, she snuggles back into the cushions, bats Max’s hand away when it sneaks over her shoulder, and resolutely shuts her eyes.

Max sighs. She gives the vibrator a quick try, eyes it critically as it hums away in her hand. Not that she doesn’t like that kind of thing, but today a little friction’s not gonna do. Dumb little motor under its silicone shell. No matter how patient, there’s no way it could ever replace the feel of another feverish heartbeat next to hers, glowing skin and swollen breaths humming with need, chasing that liberating high side by side, together. Her body won’t be fooled when all it knows is need.

She drops the vibrator from high enough to cause an audible thump and glances over Cindy with big eyes, just in case she’s watching. Cindy’s stubborn, though, and won’t look. All right then.

Max leans over for a last tame kiss and whispers, “Thanks,” making Cindy stretch and curl her lips in a sated smile. Then she gets up to find a fresh pair of panties from somewhere in that mess, never mind that they’ll be wet and slick in a minute anyway. She puts on trousers and boots, but discards her bra. The tight shirt holds her up just fine for now, and since she’s sleeveless under the jacket, she’s also granting herself the luxury of leather, soft as butter, against the bare skin of her arms.

It stopped raining at some point in the last hour - or two, actually, according to her watch. No wonder Cindy’s beat then. The mostly intact window panes are still smeared with water drops and little puddles pool in the stretched plastic bags that cover the corner of broken glass. Now that the drumming sound of rain is gone, the background noise from the other floors comes through, a steady diligent whisper of countless voices.

The place smells of concrete and debris, some corners especially sour and foul. She can never quite tell if the latter comes from long years of crumbling away into ruins or whether it’s been brought in recently, with the sheer amount of people setting up camp. The soldiers among them have cleanliness drilled into their bones, sure, but there’s the Nomlies too, and there’s kids and lost souls, and many who have no concept what a place of their own could mean. The future’s barely lost its taste of dreams.

Work needs to be done. There’s so much work to be done, and the improved HQ is always buzzing. The news channel runs in the background on a hooked up TV, papers and leaflets plaster tables and floor, and while their technicians are working on a wall of computers in one corner, people in the other are sketching out schedules and supply runs and fuel rations.

Usually, Max likes to peek over everyone’s shoulder when she passes through, pick up the newest buzz and all. Not when it’s like this, though, when her body’s running on hormonal overdrive. Her focus inevitably shifts to the gorgeous, freckled texture of Mole’s skin and his rough way of handling the gun, which, yeah, better not think about it; or to wondering whether Dix’s fingers are just as gentle and shy as his nature; or to wanting to say hi to that pretty girl with the night eyes that came in during the last raid and is now lurking quietly in the corner.

When it’s like this? Best place to be is in bed until the storm’s over, Cindy in her arms - or between her legs, for that matter. Save herself some trouble and a whole lot of awkwardness.

But now her boo’s asleep and she’s still needy, still burning up. The most insistent edge might have been taken care of, but it’ll still take a while until she too can drift off to sleep just as mellow as Cindy did. It’ll take some more of the good stuff first.

Joshua’s hanging around in a corner, fiddling with the lid of a box that looks way too delicate for his big fingers.

“Hey, let me,” she offers with a smile. With a little bit of feeling and a little bit of force, the lid comes off and Joshua delights at the bright paint it reveals. After a quick sniff, he scoop some of it out to smear across the nearest surface, like he can’t wait to get back to his canvases.

Max glances around the room. “You’ve seen Alec, by any chance?” she asks when she can’t spot him herself.

That gets Joshua’s attention. He sniffs the air as inconspicuously as he can muster, which is not at all, and points her towards one of the exits. “Out back. Not busy.” And then, with a flash of his teeth as he grins, “Not yet.”

Ah, the perks of living with a bunch of mutants. She gives Joshua a smile because she can’t be mad at him anyway and heads out.

Letting the heavy doors fall shut behind her is relief. All those voices are cut off, the smells contained, the many human temptations out of reach. Instead, fresh evening air comes washing down on her, cool and untainted, raising a delightful shiver down her spine. A soft blue sky blinks through the patchy clouds above her.

She fills her lungs with a deep breath and starts wandering down the alleys.

It’s nice to see the changes since they were just some hunted fugitives seeking shelter. Now a couple of X6 kids have claimed and cleaned out a yard for their training routine. The barrel fires don’t go out at night, the glass shards on the corners have been swept up. On the window sills, she spots cans and rags and water bottles. People are settling in all right.

There’s no sign of Alec, though. Not until she gets to the very far end, the fence and one of those damn burned down X’s already in sight. She hears a sound, looks over and oh, there he is.

“Max,” he says. He draws her name out with too much meaning, pulls his mouth into that one-sided smirk as he does. He’s half sitting on his motorbike, and the bike is pointed at the fence, and the fence is all there is between him and the road.

When he sees her, he pushes up to his feet, though, drops the empty beer bottle he’d been rolling between his fingertips and comes strolling in her direction. “What’s up?” It doesn’t sound like a question because it’s not. Perks of living with a bunch of mutants.

She tries a nonchalant smile, or maybe a shrug, because it still doesn’t mean she has to admit anything out loud.

Her eyes are lingering on his hands. Need flares up bright between her legs, sense memory rushing through her. Sure fingertips that spread across her skin, light enough to tickle or just the right kind of rough with those calluses. Two strong fingers that taste of salt and herself and disappear in his mouth when he thinks she’s not looking, and that mouth. That cocky, full mouth. Talks back and talks shit until she needs him, because then he shuts up and nips, licks, kisses, sucks bruises against her neck.

She forces her eyes closed for half a breath. Counts down from five. Doesn’t have to give in all that easily, either.

When she gets to one, he’s right up in her space, with his freckled nose and rain wet hair and big eyes that just don’t fit the smirk.

“You wanna?” she asks. At least her voice sounds gratifyingly calm and unbothered.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.” He’s already unbuttoning her pants, easing the zipper down and slipping in two, three fingers, rubbing her through the thin fabric of her panties. The cold of his hand, in sharp contrast to her own heat, makes her gasp, but it’s good, it’s so good.

She’s up on her tiptoes, bowlegged and holding on to him. Face buried in the crook of his neck, she can smell the damp leather of his jacket, the beer, strong enough that it must have been more than one, and something else that’s just him. Something that’s become familiar with all the times she’s found herself here.

Skillful fingers, warm now, slide past the thin cotton and right into her. She can’t help the moan, those satisfied little noises, and it’s even better when she hears him, too.

“Can I?” he asks, urgent, needy, his other hand tightening in her hair. “Max, can I?”

They let go of one another just long enough to make it to the bike. She pulls her pants down over her ass, he eases himself out of his fly, and after one short moment of ice cold air hitting her skin, it’s all fire.

Her nails scratch the saddle of his bike as she holds on. He’s pushing into her from behind, thick and right, past her swollen lips, rubbing all the right nerves, and her eyes rolls in delight with how good it feels. The fast pace he’s setting is just right, just the way she likes it. His breathing gets faster above her, and when he bends over to prop himself on the saddle, his mouth comes down by her ear, so close she gets to eavesdrop on all those whimpers bitten off, those moans that pour out from behind his gritted teeth, obscene noises over the background of skin hitting skin.

Listening closely, she finds her clit and comes hard. There’s a choked off sound, his hips stutter, and then he’s following fast. She can feel her muscles twitching all the way down to her curling toes.

They hold still for a minute. She leans her cheek against the saddle and enjoys the warmth of his body surrounding her. There are still water drops dripping from the rooftops. Car tires splash through the potholes somewhere out in the streets. The city’s louder after the rain.

It feels messy and a little tacky when he slips out. Quickly, she pulls up her pants, intent on shedding all her clothes as soon as she gets back to her room where Cindy’s waiting.

From the corners of her eyes, she sees Alec fiddling with his clothes too. He takes a big step to the side, rubs his face and pretends to be looking for something. Another beer, maybe, but what his eyes settle on is the fence, a profoundly unhappy line around his mouth.

That doesn’t have to concern her. She can head back and finally doze off, and if he’d rather stick around here and rub himself raw against the chain links, then that’s cool too.

But somehow, she doesn't even get as far as the corner before she thinks better of it. Surely that mattress is big enough and who knows if the heat’s really over for good? Turning on her heels, she grants him a smile, nods towards the buildings and says, “What are you doing out here in the cold anyway?”


End file.
